Just Forget It
by xXSilverStoneXx
Summary: A fluffy Dramione one-shot. Draco and Hermione disagree about something, but really, it doesn't matter, there are a lot better things that they could be doing with their time, right? Light M.


**Just Forget It**

~ xXSilverStoneXx

_Summary: Dramione fluff; oneshot. Draco and Hermione disagree about something, but really, it doesn't matter, there are a lot better things that they could be doing with their time, right?_

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am receiving no profit from this work of fiction.

Hermione and her husband sat on the couch. It was a cold, dreary November day, and the last thing either of them wanted to do was leave their flat. Perhaps flat was not the best word for it, though, since it was huge; Hermione's husband called the fifteen-room penthouse a "shoebox," while Hermione called it an "extravagant, outrageous castle."

The weatherman was on, and Hermione smirked at her husband, a very Slytherin trait that she had learned from the very sexy significant other of hers, who hated the tacky guy who always wore a fedora with tasteless colors that did nothing for his "pallid, doughy, dull, flat face," in the words of her husband.

Today the fedora was hot pink with yellow stars on it, and both she and her husband shuddered with the image on the telly.

She was, actually, very proud of the way she had integrated her husband into the Muggle/Muggleborn culture. He had started out as a bitchy, whining, prejudiced little brat, and he had ended up marrying her, the poster child of the Muggleborns. He had started out calling her nasty, derogatory names, and he ended up apologizing for it all. He had begun as a daddy's boy, listening and being brainwashed by Daddy's Death Eater ways and had ended up taking a stand as a spy and aiding the Order.

She glanced up at the telly, realizing she had been blanking out on the weatherman whilst lost in thought.

On the screen, the weather guy was mentioning words that people had come up with to describe weather mixtures such as rain and hail (hain-how creative...) and others. He mentioned one for snow and rain, and another for sun and hail, however often that happened.

After her husband flicked the switch on the telly in disgust, which is how watching the Weather Channel usually ended, he lay there, beautiful as a god.

She was so lucky to have him. He had been a womanizer before her, and she had changed him.

"Granger... Wake up, love, we have to go to that dinner with Potter and Wease-Ginny." Oh, right. She had forgotten about that.

"Draco, how many times must I remind you? I'm a Malfoy!" She sighed. He always called her Granger, even though she'd been a Malfoy for a few years now.

"Calling you Granger turns you on. Unlike that guy who was prattling on about snizzle."

"I could swear it was snain..."

"Not denying that it turns you on, are you? Plus, I heard the bloke. He definitely said snizzle." Draco countered.

"It was snain. It makes more sense. A direct combination of snow and rain!" Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Snizzle is snow and drizzle! Makes a hell of a lot more sense than snain, which sounds like snail and disdain rolled into one!"

"Draco. The. Weatherman. Said. Snain."

"No, Granger. The. Weatherman. Fucking. Said. Snizzle." He stretched out the pauses more dramatically than she had so he was mocking her. Hermione glared at him. She's been told that she has quite the glare. That was Ron, though. Draco says that it turns him-shite. She doesn't want to turn him on. Right?

When she glanced at him, he was shifting uncomfortably, and she decided that turning him on might help with winning the argument. Hermione smirks at him, knowing that she did it perfectly. After all, she learned from the best.

When Draco sees her smirk, he groans softly.

"Fuck, Granger."

"Draco, it's Malfoy." Hermione says, rolling the r slightly in Draco. He had shared once that when someone rolled their r's, it reminded him of someone rolling their hips against his. At the time, Hermione had just said, "Kinky," but had stored the information for future use. She hadn't meant to use it to torture him so that she could win an argument, but there you have it.

He glared at me, but Hermione knew he liked her Slytherin tactics. Very, very grudging respect, but respect nonetheless.

She waited just long enough so that he was just cooling down before she went and straddled him. His eyes went wide, and she felt his, erm, excitement return full-on. Hermione leant towards him as if she were about to kiss him. Then she whispered in his ear, "Snain."

He growled. Yes, growled. As in, full-on, animalistic growl. "The weatherman said SNIZZLE!"

"Snizzle! It sounds like a rapper is crying!" She countered with a totally true statement.

"Snain sounds like... Snape in pain!" Hermione regarded him with a laugh in her eyes and a smirk on her face, success laced in her features. That was the best he had? Hermione rolled my hips once more.

"C'mon, Draco. You can do much, much better than that." She purrs in his ear, rolling the r's. Hermione was going to use this particular female tactic to win. Because Hermione Granger had a reputation. It started with w. It ended with inner. And damn if she was going to lose her first argument ever over the weather! But the weatherman did say snain, she just knew it. Plus, she had an amazing memory. She still remembered the way her hand felt after punching Malfoy.

They rolled over on the couch, him leaning over her now. His smirk was promising danger. He trailed a finger along the outline of Hermione's lips, and he leaned forward. She leaned forward too, waiting in anticipation for him to kiss her, but the soft, pliable warmth of his lips wasn't there. She glared at him and leaned back down, propping her elbows on the couch.

She focused really hard on her idea. Come. On. Hermione crossed her fingers, hoping that it would work. Please, please, please. Merlin. She wasn't the best at wandless, wordless magic because it required a lot of concentration, and her young, hot husband _was _currently on top of her. But she focused as hard as she could under the circumstances, and watched in triumph.

The air shifted slightly, collecting a light glimmer. She smiled as she watched the air bend slightly and color itself into one word. One very, very, very important word. Snain.

It's in alternating red and yellow, close enough to the Gryffindor colors for Draco to get the reference and clench his jaw. Hermione watched his reaction with amusement. After all, it's not every day she manages to piss off Draco Malfoy. She has to remember, she has to savor this day.

He retaliated with changing the couch to a deep green that actually suited the orange-red walls surprisingly well. She sighed. They were going into a full-scale magic war. Plus, his reaction was lame. Hermione _loved _the color green.

He sighed as she stroked the side of his face, whispering unintelligibly. Or, well, that's what he thought. While he thought she was stroking his forehead, she was actually writing snain, so that when his forehead came in contact with water, it would appear in bright green, unmissable. That would make for a fun dinner with Harry and Ginny when she "accidentally" lost control of her water glass.

He was rubbing circles on her hips, but she didn't know that he was distracting her from the tattoo that was now curling across her back. His wand just finished as she turned slightly. Draco stifled a laugh; the tattoo said Sexy Snizzler on her back, straight across. He felt a sudden rush of affection for his wife. Leaning in and kissing her, they lay on the couch entwined, getting as close as two people can get. He was straddling her, and she had wrapped a leg around his, and his arms were wrapped around hers and damn, it was getting hot in the room. He removed her shirt and kissed down her chest while she arched her neck. She moaned softly and Draco rolled over, ending in them... falling off the couch. Hermione stared at him in shock, but then she began laughing. She had an infectious laugh, making Draco begin laughing with her. What a pair. They were sitting on the floor, her sitting in his lap, her shirt off and his hair mussed and cracking up.

They were a crazy pairing, but they were them. She loved him. He loved her. They did crazy things, like giving each other invisible-until-in-water tattoos on the forehead and writing ridiculous things on each other's backs, but they were perfect together.

"Snizzle," he muttered against Hermione's lips.

"Just forget it," she sighed, continuing to kiss him.

A half-hour later, there was a Floo call from Harry and Ginny.

"I should get that," Hermione groaned against his lips.

"Just forget it," he said, shooting her a million-watt smile that melted her heart.

Sometimes, you just have to forget about it. Harry and Ginny could wait.


End file.
